Double Dutch
by OukamiYasha
Summary: Matt is captured and tormented by a group of mafia thugs who are none too pleased with Mello's behavior. Mello must decide if it's worth risking everything to save his friend. Yaoi, Matt/Mello, Mello/Matt, violence, language,rape, kink...
1. Chapter 1

**It's been foreveerrrrzzz and a day since I've written a fanfic. And here I started this one, during finals, no less. ; Eeeh...**

**Anyway, forgive me, because I haven't been keeping up with Death Note so some things may be off. But I will be cosplaying Matt for this year's Anime Weekend Atlanta, so I guess that makes me an offical Matt fan...**

* * *

"How fucking old are you, Matt? Fucking thirteen? Those things'll kill you!" Mello snarled, snatching the lit cigarette from Matt's hand, "Where've you been getting them from anyway?"

Matt looked up at Mello, blinking and making no attempt to grab it back.

"I steal em. It's easy."

His tone was bored, almost emotionless to the ears of any outsider. But Mello knew better. There was a tug in the inflection on the word 'easy', the tiniest hint of pride.

"So you want to be a fucking thief, huh? Maybe I should call L right now and let him know how you're stealing damn cancer-sticks. I'm sure he'll be real fucking proud of you."

Matt allowed himself a smile. It wasn't a smirk, not the smug half-smile Near would have offered Mello, it was a grin, amused and radiant.

"Like you can just get in touch with L. Besides, I'm sure he wouldn't be too happy about your excessive use of the F-bomb."

"Is that a threat, Jeevas?" Mello snapped, hurling Matt's cigarette to the ground and stomping on it with the heavy black heel of his boot, "You can't get in touch with L, either! Maybe you should fucking remember that!"

Matt just continued to smile.

"I remember."

* * *

Matt had never needed help. Hell, he **was **the help. He was there whenever Mello needed anything, from chocolate to information to dragging him out of the burning wreckage of a former mafia hideout. He was a wraith; detached, for years, from Whammy's House and L and even Mello, yet bound at the same time. He followed, hid, watched, waited, then at last did what he was ordered. And in between orders, he would wait again, basking in leisure time with video games and booze and cigarettes. He didn't worry much. What Mello and Near were after was bigger than him, much bigger.

So, he was content to stay on the sidelines, help where he could, and watch for the safety of his friend. He was his own man, able to pay his own rent, buy his own food.

But he was lonely, sometimes, cut off from the world by his own nature.

The apartment he was living in at the moment was dark and bare. Not so much as a roach skittered across the gray walls. Usually people are wont to avoid roaches anyway, but to Matt it was just further proof that he was the only living thing in the place. He could usually keep himself occupied with video games, opting especially for RPGs where he felt like he was a part of something, part of people's lives, but he had beaten all the ones he owned numerous times and it was too late in the night to go pick up another. Besides, he thought, best to keep out of sight for a while. Mello was wanted, and since he was an accomplice, Matt was wanted too.

And, as painful as it was, he would rather have been alone than in a jail, being molested and prosecuted.

He sat in a creaking wooden chair in the tiny kitchen, all the lights off, wondering idly if, **if **they caught him, would they try to torture Mello's location out of him? How bad would it hurt? What exactly would they do?

He had heard about that Chinese water torture, but to him it didn't seem all that bad. He was the type of guy it probably wouldn't affect.

But Mello. God, Mello. It would have driven Mello batshit insane.

A car passed on the street below and lit up the lonely kitchen in a wash of light, stretching out Matt's shadow on the tiled floor. It seemed to pass quicker than it came, leaving him in the dark again.

He stood and stretched, lit a cigarette and headed out the door.

* * *

As was his way, Mello had left only the most vague clues as to his whereabouts. Matt was a smart kid, he could follow them well enough, but it required a bit of sniffing around on his part. He was an obedient dog, after all. He packed the pockets of his suede vest with his PSP, cell phone, lighter and cigarettes and took off.

Left at the church, right at the pub. What a combination.

Past the electric company, over the bridge and into the slums.

He got out the car, slammed the door shut without a second thought and lit a cigarette. The place was a dump, cold metal walls beaten and scrawled over with grafitti. The midnight sky was made darker by the thick clouds that infested it.

_'Only Mello'_ he thought, shaking his head. _'Don't you deserve something more?'_

A tap on the door with a gloved fist. A pair of shifty eyes peeking out from a gauged slit in the metal door. Two names, a password...

"Matt here for Mello. Faustus." He thought it was funny that this was the way it really worked, the passwords and all. He used to need passwords all the time when he was little, magic words that allowed him passage into tree houses and No-Girls-Allowed Forts. But into the mafia? He could have laughed, but he didn't want to offend anyone.

Especially not a gun-toting mafia hound.

Matt could feel himself being eyed warily before the door opened to let him inside.

It was dark and cold and wet. The man who let him in was impossibly big, at least two feet taller than Matt, who allowed himself an amused glance , his smirk hidden behind his hand as he took a deep drag from his cigarette.

Sweet nirvana. Nothing was better than a good cigarette. When he had a pack of cigarettes and the opportunity to see Mello, he just couldn't be happier, not even if he had beaten the last boss and uncovered all the secrets on Wild's Whim 2: The Arms of Reason. Which he had, by the way, numerous times.

"Matt, huh?" the guy said in a deep voice befitting of him. Matt nodded quietly, puffing his cigarette contentedly.

The man said nothing else, but led him down a maze of hallways flickering with faulty lights and less than hygenic creatures, until they got to another metal door. He opened it and beckoned Matt inside.

A dozen or so men looked up from their lounging positions on broken-down couches and armchairs.

"This here's Matt," the man who opened the door grinned, a grin that showed broken teeth and malicious intent, "Mello's friend. You all remember Mello, don't you, boys?"

Rousing peals of laughter echoed through the dirty room. Matt shivered involuntarily and slowly reached behind him for the gun he kept stocked in the elastic of his pants. He kept a clueless smile plastered on his handsome face, a smile that said "Yeah, my name's Matt and I'm an idiot."

That smile got him out of a lot of trouble before. No one ever bothered with a guy who had nothing to offer.

He shrugged politely.

"Mello's still shacking up here, ain't he?" he asked in a pleasant, innocent tone, "Last I heard he--"

Everything went black and he felt himself falling, crashing to the ground and landing on his arm. He could feel his gun's bullet champer pushing into his wrist. The big guy that had opened the door hefted him back up almost immediately, grabbing both his arms behind his back.

"Hey," Matt sputtered indignantly, still woozy from the punch to his skull, "Hey, why'd you hit me if you're just gonna help me back up?"

"Shut the fuck up, boy," the big guy said. Some sleazy rat-faced guy had slinked off the couch and started patting Matt down. He removed the gun, along with the contents of Matt's pockets.

"Ooh, a gamer, huh?" he wheezed, waving the PSP in front of Matt's eyes, "I always wanted one of these, thanks, kid."

"Take it," he answered coolly, hands still held roughly behind his back, "Back home I have a limited-edition red God of War--"

The man smacked him across the face, the PSP in the palm of his hand, enough to offer a stinging blow and crack both the console's screen and a lens of Matt's goggles. He stared around at them with broken vision as his PSP was thrown onto the floor.

Another man, even more impossibly big than the doorman, strode up. The gang's leader, Matt noted silently, a guy with dreads and muscles and a snarl that would have made his grandma hang herself.

"Mello ain't here no more, he decided to move onto better things. With half our money and one of our cars."

"Is that so?" Matt asked, raising his eyebrows in fake concern.

He knew he was fucked.

The leader smashed his massive fist into Matt's gut. He let out a choked, breathless gasp as his legs gave way beneath him. His body tried to fall, tried to get out of the way of those "These Fists Are Made For Beating And That's Just What They'll Do" hands. But the man behind him still held him up, held him vulnerable and open to more abuse.

More punches came, more pain, more laughter. The world turned blurry again before cutting out into total blackness, like the end of an old film.

* * *

**Yeeep...okay, I'll get back to work. **


	2. Chapter 2

**THAR BE RAPE IN THIS CHAPTER. Because I am a bad person who has been having a very bad time lately. Enjoy, my fellow perverts!**

_"Matt, come play with us!" Liv cried, not missing a step as the jump ropes flew over and under her, too fast to follow. Her mouth was twisted into a gleeful smile, mostly toothless though it was, and her pigtails bounded with her jumps._

_"No thanks."_

_"Ugh, Matt!" she and her friends started up a horrible chorus of whines, even pausing their jump-rope game to shower him with imploring looks, "Why not?"_

_"Video game," he held up his Game Boy, then turned and walked away. Liv's indignant voice followed him._

_"Just because you're third in line after Near and Mello doesn't mean you have to act like them, yknow! Freaks!"_

_Freaks, huh? Matt thought to himself as he sauntered back into the orphanage, sheltered by the dark mahogany walls. Matt kind of liked the way it sounded._

Freeeaaaak.

_He whispered it out to himself, trying different variations._

Freak. Free-eehk!

_"What the hell are you doing?"_

_Matt looked up. Mello leaned against the doorframe to his bedroom, a stolid black figure before him. Matt eyed him and shrugged._

_"Sounding it out."_

_"Sounding what out?"_

_"Freak."_

_"What did you call me?" Mello's lips curled in a snarl. Matt shook his head. Mello was a bright kid, but his anger sure could make him stupid sometimes. He supposed that was why he had always come in second place to Near._

_"I didn't call you nothing," he shrugged and walked past Mello into the room, "Liv and the twins were playing double dutch and they asked me to play. When I wouldn't they called me a freak. I was sounding it out. It sounds nice."_

_"No it doesn't." Mello snapped, argumentative as always. Still, he sat on the bed next to Matt, who shrugged again and flicked on the switch to his Game Boy. They sat in silence for a while longer, though Matt could have sworn he heard Mello hissing something under his breath._

_"Freeeeaaak…"_

* * *

Water was leaking out of a pipe somewhere, constant and annoying, each drip the click of an angry, unseen tongue. This was the first thing Matt noticed as he clawed out of the depths of unconsciousness.

It was cold too. Damn cold, he thought, and that seemed to be the only thing his mind would let him think at the moment. _Damn cold, damn cold, damn cold_…it repeated a meaningless mantra in his head.

At last he opened his eyes, his vision viridian and distorted by his cracked goggles. He raised his arm to move them up on his forehead, groaning from the dull pain that throbbed throughout his entire body, inside and out. He managed to sit up and notice, perhaps the most important detail as to his situation.

His lower body was bare. Bare and dripping reddish-black with what could be nothing else but blood.

"Damn," he murmured, dazed, "those bastards raped me."

He sat in silence a few minutes longer. He had spoken the fact, but it had no meaning to him because he didn't quite believe it. But the longer he sat, the more he noticed how much pain he was in, and it began to truly sink in.

"Christ on a crutch. They really did rape me," he muttered again, "Jesus."

Blankly, he raised his head and looked around. It looked like a sewer and smelled just as bad. And he was trapped, caged in on three sides by brick walls and faced by iron-wrought bars that were bolted down securely. Kind of like a holding jail, he noted, drawing from past experience, except there was no toilet in this one.

He shuffled forward on his hands and knees, wincing at the pain, and tried to see as far past the metal bars as he could. There seemed to be other similar cells next to his, and beyond him was a short, dark hallway that abruptly ended in a corridor.

He sat back again and reached habitually into his pocket for a cigarette, but quickly remembered the thugs had taken them from him, along with his cell phone and everything else. And they had broken his PSP. And they had raped him, not even bothering to take his top, or even his jacket, off. Damn.

What is it they had said? Mello had left, taking their money and a car? Well, that seemed dumb. Mello had managed to sleaze his way up the food chain until his ass sat comfortably at the top, why would he just leave?

He heard cackles echoing down the hallway, loud footsteps clopping onto the hard, cold floors. Matt got into a kneel, hoping to hide his nakedness, not that they hadn't seen it already, apparently. A group of nine or ten men crowded into the space, a few regarding him with roving eyes and lustful grins.

"You guys," Matt started, his voice a little more muted by humility than usual, "coulda at least left me a few smokes."

"We were hoping," responded a well-dressed man, clearly the leader, "that in time your nicotine withdrawl will entice you to tell us the location of your friend."

A smooth talker, Matt thought. But Mello had trained him for things like this, purposefully depriving him of cigarettes for extended periods of time. It drove Matt crazy, but he could handle it without breaking down. And he certainly wouldn't reveal his best friend's location.

Not that he could anyway, since he had been quite positive that this was Mello's location, which he was sure he had implied before. At least he knew he wasn't working with the brightest of goons here.

"Sorry, guys. Can't do that. I don't even know where he is, I totally thought he was here, y'know? S'why I showed up here in the first place."

"Then we'll just wait for him to call you on your cell phone. Surely you must get messages from him when he moves to a new location."

"Sure nuff, but they're never cell phone calls. Too dangerous."

"How then?"

The truth was, Mello and Matt really did communicate through cell phone calls. But he wasn't about to let those idiots know that.

"Pay phones. Yknow. Every day I go to a store and sit near a pay phone. Mello has a lot of people backing him, it's them that watch where I am and call the phone."

It was a stupid explanation brought on by a pained and desperate mind, but the thugs seemed to buy it nonetheless. They bristled and shuffled amongst themselves, seeming quite unsure of what to do. The leader curled back his thin lips and snarled at Matt, a growl borne of frustration and anger.

"I'll be back," he spat at Matt, quite literally, a thick globule of his saliva landing squarely on the boy's face, "the rest of him can do whatever you want with him, just don't kill him." He turned on heel and stormed down the hall and turned the corridor, out of view. A few lackeys followed him, hands shoved into their pockets, but more stayed than left.

Matt wiped the spit off his face with a cringe before looking up. One of the men was unbolting the iron bar door, and Matt had a sick premonition about what was coming.

"So," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. It came out a little louder than normal, a little more breathless, "You guys are gay, huh? I support that. I don't support rape, but hey, the rainbow brigade is cool with me."

The goons had gotten well past the door. Matt found himself against the far end of the wall, not quite knowing how he had gotten there, the men with their vile odors and leering grins surrounding him. One man with a deeply puckered, shining scar on his face reached forward and grabbed Matt's mouth.

"Shut up, kid. We ain't fags, but a hole is a hole."

The phrase made Matt want to vomit. He found himself trembling, though he knew he was stronger than that. What would Mello have done? Probably found a way to beat these thugs to death with their own limbs. But Mello was like an animal, wild and crazed, and everyone knew not to back him into a corner unless they wanted their fingers, or other body parts, ripped off. However, Matt was the opposite, more mellow than Mello, Matt had joked on many occasions. He had been trained to fight, trained to shoot, but he didn't have the natural instinct that Mello had. He didn't have the rage.

"Turn over, boy," the scarred man said and with a simple jerk of his massive hands practically flipped Matt face-down. He grabbed Matt's hips roughly, hauling them up so his rear end was in the air while a different man with red hair and unbuttoned slacks kept his one of his hands around Matt's wrists and the other around his neck.

"You're not even going to use lube?" Matt asked, his voice wavering weakly around the joke.

"Overrated," the man said with a grunt and plunged into him. Matt screamed, his cry quickly muffled as the man holding him tightened his grip in Matt's hair and force Matt's mouth onto his erect member.

"Suck it good," the man holding him hissed, clenching a fistful of hair even tighter, "Cuz if you don't, I'll have to do you up the ass along with everyone else in line."

Matt shut his eyes tightly, his wet eyelashes clamped together.

_If sucking this guy off is what it takes to have one less person do this to me…_he thought, helplessly aware of the burning pain blazing through his body_…then fine._

The rest of the men leaned against the wall, sharpening knives or picking at their teeth as they waited their turn.


End file.
